What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
according afford antient appear artist beautiful bright brown carmine CHAP chemical chromascope chromatic citrine Cobalt Green cochineal colourist compound contrast copal copper greens dark denomination dries drying oil durable effect eligible pigment employed equal EXPERIMENT expression fresco gamboge glass glazing gray green ground harmony hence Idem impure air Knight's Tale lakes latter lensic prism less light and shade linseed oil liquid litharge madder madder lakes mastic metrochrome Milton mixture mode Naples yellow nature neutral ochre olive opaque orange Orpiment oxide oxygen painter painting palette perfect permanent picture pigments poet powers of colours practice prepared primary colours principles of light prism prismatic produced properties proportions Prussian blue pure purple refraction rendered resins respect russet scale scarlet semi-neutral shadows Shakspeare spectrum substances tertiary colours texture tints Titian transparent ultramarine various varnish vehicle vermilion warm water and oil water-colour white lead yellow
Page 7 - Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art ~\\ hich does mend nature, — change it rather ; but The art itself is nature.
Page 92 - Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander every where, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be: In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Page 140 - Awake : The morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us ; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tender plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.
Page 156 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Page 6 - tis the mind that makes the body rich ; And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit. What, is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful ? Or is the adder better than the eel, Because his painted skin contents the eye ? O, no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse For this poor furniture, and mean array.
Page 90 - Boy, let yon liquid ruby flow, And bid thy pensive heart be glad, Whate'er the frowning zealots say : Tell them, their Eden cannot show A stream so clear as Rocnabad, A bower so sweet as Mosellay.
Page 127 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Page 150 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength...
Page 157 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side Views wilds and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.